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You ever read Animal Farm? If you did, continue reading the sentence below. If you did not, skip it and laugh as if it was the most hilarious yet tragically-poignant literary joke you’ve ever read.

If you’re reading this, you’re still alive, which means you’re a survivor of the Swine Flu epidemic, Napoleon the pig’s fiercest biological weapon.

The Swine Flu is scary. It rhymes well with the Fine Flu, but don’t be fooled. This shit will kill you… or give you symptoms identical to a regular flu.

That’s right–the Swine Flu is pretty much a flu that our body has no defenses against. What does this mean for all of the American populace that isn’t Wolverine? It means that if you come into contact with it, you’re pretty much screwed.

The horror.

Thankfully for the six of you reading this, as well as you Mr. President (winks), I hold the keys to survival.

Yea, I see you...you rascal.

I don’t think I can make myself any more clear than this: the enemy is here, the real enemy, and it is the pig population. They stand in their mud pens, eating corn, mushrooms, oats and grass, wallowing and getting fat, just like Michael Moore does in his palatial Beverly Hills mud pen. Pigs, and Michael Moore for that matter, are completely evil and constantly plotting. Plotting for what? Their great escape. Their escape from what? Sounds like paradise to me.

I will save you.

Yesterday, as an experiment, Lanny and I took a trip to Mexico City with a completely healthy –and completely unconscious– Derek Brozowski. Our plan was to infect a healthy, Polish body, and then cure it. Cure it with our science and our love –but mainly just with the science.

Your last, color-coordinated, hope.

We arrive at Mexico City around 3 pm. We make it easily through security, the appearance of a bound and gagged Caucasian hardly a cause for alarm at the U.S./Mexico border. I speak Spanish to the guard.

“Hola, ameego!” I say, I’m very happy to see brown people.

“Hola, señor. ¿Tienes cualquier cosa declarar?”

“Um…Hola, ameego! May yamo Kyle! Goostas el Texas Rangers?”

Here the border officer stood silently and motioned for two other officers sitting in a small both a few yards away. Me and Lanny are removed from the car and strip searched while our car is ran over by a drug dog and a couple of local children. Derek is tied up and beaten, much like a piñata. The guards, Lanny and I all enjoy a couple cervezas while watching the children play with Derek’s limp, pallid body. I love this moment. Freeze. Saving moment in mind.

We drive for 15 minutes and stop by a local convenience store to buy Derek some new clothes. We buy him a Tommy Hillfigger windbreaker and some black windbreaker shorts. They don’t match. Derek’s going to be pissed.

When we reached Mexico City, it was dark. We thought it’d be safe to camp in a vacant lot, because bad guys wouldn’t dare waste their time in an unpopulated, poorly lit, secluded area.

Lanny was shot.

We woke up the next morning and got ready for our day of science. Lanny passed out a couple of times and Derek kept trying to wake up from his drug/blunt-force-trauma induced slumber. What a card. What a god damn fucking shit damn card.

We walk up to the Iglesia del Ser Supremo, a small church within Mexico City. It is here that we inject Derek with a dangerously high level of PCP and convince him that all of Mexico is made of candy. This sets off a feeding frenzy the likes of which no man has ever seen, most likely because it was a feeding frenzy that involved eating an unopened bag of Mexican Doritos and a feral alley cat. Derek licked hand-rail after hand-rail, ate urinal cake after urinal cake until he passed out from overstimulation and an almost lethal blood toxicity level.

Pictured: Hero.

When Derek came to hours later, we told him what we did. We told him we had done it for the good of science –for the good of humanity. Derek took several swings at us before throwing up blood and falling asleep on the ground.

Lanny was starting to feel guilty so I told him that real scientists never feel guilty and that sometimes they have to make sacrifices for science and that if he really loved science he’d give me 20 bucks becaues I really want it and I really want that marianette over there because it reminds me of Wesley and I miss Wesley he is so sweet last weekend Wesley and me played Zombies but not the videogame we both dressed up in makeup and tried to scare each other but we decided we’d rather hug so we did that all day.

Derek eventually came to. Derek eventually came to realize that if he wanted to live, he needed to shut up and listen to what me and Lanny and marianette Wesley had to say. But unfortunately, our thrilling conclusion is forthcoming. Stay tuned for scenes from the next BLOG *boom*

Next week on: BLOG

“Kyle, what do you mean?! I have to put that where?” Derek screams

*Kyle turns, camera zooms into beautiful profile.*

“If you want to live, you’ll put that damn thing in your–”

*truck explodes*

—

“Lanny, I’m telling you it’s real!

“Kyle, it’s a damned puppet!”

*Kyle slaps Lanny, tears in his eyes. Lanny looks back at Kyle, grips an amulet around his neck and rips it off. He places the amulet in Kyle’s hand*

“I guess this means I can forget about Morocco. Lift the damn curse on your own.”

*Lanny gets into helicopter*

—

*cuts to Wesley, clothed in nothing but a loin cloth, standing in the middle of a parking lot